Page 59 of Shattered Secrets

She did. More than she should.

Scarlet sucked in a deep breath for bravery. And as she let it out, she prayed this man was true to his word. “When I lived in South Dakota, I was the sole witness to a triple murder.”

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

Of all the things to come out of this beautiful woman’s mouth, that was the very last thing Matt had expected.

A myriad of emotions flickered over Scarlet’s face, none of them good. Worry, sadness, doubt. Without second-guessing himself, he plucked her from her chair, settled her on his lap with her back to his chest, and wrapped his arms around her. He knew that sometimes it was easier to talk if no one was looking directly at you. But he’d be damned if he wasn’t going to support her and comfort her while she shared her story.

After a heartbeat, she leaned back into his arms.

Matt pressed his lips to the top of her head and just held her. He didn’t know how long they sat there like that before she finally spoke.

“I told you that I grew up in a tiny town in South Dakota,” she began, her quiet voice loud in the otherwise silent room. “It was just me and my mom. I didn’t have the best upbringing. Like I said before, I dropped out of school in the ninth grade, and then she and I went our separate ways.”

It took everything he had to not tense beneath her. Because holy shit. A person didn’t just go “separate ways” from their fourteen-year-old child. Or rather, they weren’t supposed to.Not legally, and sure as fuck not morally. But he had to ask... “Didn’t anyone come looking for you? The school? CPS?”

She scoffed. “Yeah, right. Even if they did, my mom probably reported me as a runaway. At least, that’s what she’d always threatened to do. Said it would make her life so much easier.”

“Where did you go?” he asked, impressed that he’d kept his voice calm. He was so pissed at her piece-of-shit mother. And because he was pretty sure he knew where Scarlet had ended up.

“There was a girl a couple years older than me who lived a few trailers over that kind of took me under her wing.”

He frowned. Blind leading the fucking blind.

“She hung out at the local motorcycle club, and so I tagged along. A lot. Until she and I were basically living at the clubhouse.”

“How old were you?”

She flinched, and he wanted to kick himself. He ran a hand down her arms to comfort her. And himself.

“Almost fifteen.”

Matt closed his eyes. He’d expected the answer, but hearing her say it out loud...

Holy fuck.He knew what went on in most MC clubhouses. The idea of her living in one at fourteen years old would haunt him for the rest of his life.

He dropped a kiss to the top of her head. “And then?”

She went quiet for a moment. He imagined she was gathering her thoughts. Deciding what she should and shouldn’t reveal. Which was fine. Because he knew he hadn’t fully earned her trust. Yet.

“I was a fixture there for a few years... and then one night, after a really wild party, I witnessed the club’s vice president shoot and kill three club members for disrespecting him.”

Ice slithered down his spine. There was more. He knew it in his gut, but he wouldn’t push. Not now, anyway. “Holy shit, Scar,” he whispered, tightening his arms around her.

She let out a deep breath, then shifted on his lap to face him and tentatively met his gaze.

“What happened after that, sweetheart?”

“The cops came the next morning for something totally unrelated. I can’t even remember what. Steele, the club’s VP, and a couple other guys were moving the bodies when they showed up.” She chuckled, but there was no humor in it. “Shitty timing, right? But long story short, I was the only witness to Steele shooting the guys. The feds swooped in—the club was apparently running drugs and guns—and I was placed in witness protection.”

“Are you still in WITSEC?”

She shook her head. “Steele’s trial was about four months after the arrest. I stayed in the program for just over three years. Then Steele was killed in prison, and around the same time, the MC disbanded.”

Awfully convenient timing, he thought.

“A month after all that went down, it was decided I didn’t need protection anymore. There was no longer a threat. Bates, my handler, said I could either go back to my old life or keep the identity they made for me and start fresh. It was a no-brainer, really, so here I am.”